


Rejected Thought Bubbles

by RAW_SYNTH3TICA



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bisexual Male Character, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Confusing, Continuity What Continuity, Dark Comedy, Drabble, Explicit Language, I Don't Even Know, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, No Plot/Plotless, POV First Person, Random & Short, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 18:40:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6020800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RAW_SYNTH3TICA/pseuds/RAW_SYNTH3TICA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And what's the occasion for my cock-tastic ass-teasing to you? </p><p>Degradation. Sweet, sweet self-degradation. </p><p> </p><p>*not meant to be taken seriously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rejected Thought Bubbles

**Author's Note:**

> ALL IS FICTIONAL & NOT MINE. 
> 
> strictly for stress-relief XD

The last thing anybody can expect is sex. With your right hand. In a twin bed too short for tall orders of big poppa ground beef. Not you. Me. 

And what's the occasion for my cock-tastic ass-teasing to you? 

Degradation. Sweet, sweet self-degradation. 

The end-result of my fucked up childhood. Hours of Clown-porn. The audience. Take your pick. I ain't getting paid enough for just providing objectophiliac borderline-bestiality masturbatory eye-shit. 

God! Did choking my powered red ranger look so damn, motherfucking, goo-goo-sucky-sucky-Yummy?! 

You gotta admit, though- 

-there's just Something so fucking special about handling pinky with a Duct tape-grip and ignoring your sexual vulnerability by...hmmm...by ultimately Exploiting your own sexual weakness. 

But this isn't sex. No, no, no, bad little potty-brain piggy-wiggly-poo! You have no shame, assuming what I'll do. 

This is L-O-V-E, when the big boy right hand of God goes AWOL-Nation on Horney the Unicorn! 

Fuck, this song! 

It makes you do shit that you might regret and might get you banned for being an inconsiderate motherfucker of a Fucker, should you give two shits and a popped squat for good measure? 

Under totally 'Pretty in Pink' situations, maybe I -Should- give a pinch of turd, like wiping before dropping a deuce. 

Who directs this shit? 

You know the one? The guy that revs up a Twizzler-hype two-bit smashed-dick story and spits out the end without so much as giving a courtesy tap on your head before he blows his wad...Early. Too fucking early? 

Hint: first movie made a mess of directorial art-boners, the next – pitiful, the fuck-fart after – pathetic, the ass-wart After fucking That – a paste made of smashed balls. 

All in all, after a grating lobotomizing two-hours of philosophical horse shit, you ask yourself: That's It? 

Dodged that footnote in the Razzie's section. 

Thank the Academy later if barring another...Oops! Shouldn't be giving actual names here, now should we? 

Hint number two, Part B: 'The Room' 

Hint number three, Part C: 'Master of Disguise' 

Hint number four, Part D: 'Urban Cowboy' 

So I have a fucking opinion that will blow out from my fucking mouth, you think I won't document my downward spiral...

Status Update: ….who gives a shit. I put that overgrown three-clawed bastard in his place. 

“You said you fondled his balls?” 

Oh, you demented little fuckers. He invaded my 'Circle of Trust' with his Focker until I screamed Jinxy! #FuckYou #OhYeah #WTF #HellYeah #ThugLife #Epic

Watch it, wish you never knew how to connect your infested gray-matter to Fifty Shades of Shit. 

Didn't think so, smart ass. Didn't think too much about who's pot you're shitting in, who's childhood you're blowing like Batman hate-raping the magic jizz out of Joker while Robin watches in the safety of his...you get the point. 

You point them in the wrong direction while they're young, and who knows, it might be the little malnutritioned asshole giving you the business-end of his red tights instead of me, I'm no fake fucking Mrs Cleo. 

“Ooh! 'Mister Giggle's She-Male Gang Parade.' Fave! Take that five-dollar-footlong to the balls.” 

I won't judge, just so you know. 

C'mon, it'll take more than Fifty Shades to fully color the lack of written pig-ass I can perform in under a minute. 

Judge me, you're only making daddy's willy harder... 

Time me! 

Time's up! 

Now, what have we learned today, kids? 

Anyone? Anybody. 

My right hand is not second-par to the Fleshlight, my left hand is as gentle as a horse's insemination-plug. 

Fun Fact: skinning the sausage 'too much' doesn't cause Blindness! 

Hooray for reality!

There's something special about hitting third base with only a bottle of lube and two hands, while remembering Michael Keaton wrestling Edward Norton – just skin, two prime peacocks putting the 'Blow' back into 'Blowjob' and taking the 'Job' out of 'Rimjob'. 

Maybe that was my version on meth. 

#AAA #FreeHeisenburg

I need a mutant to scoop me off this bed and take my hands out of me, because, one day I might just fucking forget to pull out before bedtime. 

#Furry #BallsOut #AnythingGoes 

Don't fucking judge Me! 

#YOLO 

Can you just- 

I don't know- 

like...um... 

tell me that Kumar finally got laid and that National Lampoons finally ended after their last god-awful straight-to-DVD stunt? 

#VanWilder

**Author's Note:**

> well, just got out of the late Late show just three hours ago, & i wrote this on my phone while sitting through the end-credits...


End file.
